Suku
by whatsamatta
Summary: Family. Who knew that word could instill such love and irritation? Life through one-shots. *Illegitimate child of all my other HA fics.*
1. Ninja Midgets

_**Disclaimer: I know, I just got done with **_One for the Road_** and all, but this was stuck in my head while I took a shower this morning, and thought some of you might get a kick out of it. If you get squeamish at the mention of womanly products/cycles, I suggest you don't read. I guess it could be a later-in-life add-on to my other Hey Arnold fics. It's gonna stay a one-shot, and I **_still_** don't own Hey Arnold. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Helga and her fourteen year old daughter Jillian sat on the couch in the living room, watching _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ on DVD, but were really having a heart-to-heart. Jill was cuddled under a blanket, her head resting on her mother's lap while her mom ran her fingers through the girl's blonde hair. Jill's father was out on an errand, which both women were thankful for.

"Hey mom?" Jill began, stretching a bit, before taking her eyes away from Riff Raff and Magenta scaring Rocky Horror down the elevator shaft, and looking up at her mother.

"Yeah Jilly Bean?" Helga replied with another question, but Jill was used to this with her mother. And people wondered where she got it . . .

"Why do muscle cramps feel different than menstrual cramps? I mean, their both cramps, right?" Helga laughed, and sent a look at her daughter.

"Well, Jilly Bean, there's a funny reason behind that. You see, when you get a muscle cramp, you've stressed your muscle by not stretching it, so the cramp feels like the muscle is extending in a way it shouldn't." Jillian nodded, and Helga sent a quick glance back at Doctor Scott, who was about to tell the dinner table about Eddie.

"_From the day he was born._"

"Not the night but the day." The two women on the couch sang in unison against the movie.

"_He was trouble_."

"With a Capital T." they continued, for a moment forgetting their conversation.

"_He was the thorn._"

"Not the rose, but the thorn." They giggled, enjoying their moment.

"_In his mother's, side._"

"Not the front but the side." By this time, Arnold had returned, and found them in the living room. He didn't walk in, though; simply stood at the entry way, watching them with amused interest.

"_She tried in vein._"

"Not the artery, but the vein." They were singing in almost monotone, but it sounded happy.

"_But he never caused her nothing but shame._"

"Not delight, but shame." They finished, then looked at each other as they sang the final part with Dr. Scott.

"He left home, the day she _**died**_." Ignoring the rest of the song, and how low they had managed to sing, Helga and Jillian returned to their conversation, forgetting Rocky for the time being.

"And as for menstrual cramps, well, those are actually a couple of ninja midgets inside your uterus sparring to the death." Jillian and Helga laughed, while Arnold just about dropped the tub of Orange Schubert and feminine products he'd been sent to get.

_Oh God, we're talking about __**this**__?_

Suddenly the warm happy sight Arnold had come home to, his wife and daughter snuggling on the couch and watching a movie together, became twisted. He saw, instead, a bunch of evil midgets from _Willow_ holding down his family and jumping on their stomachs. Shaking his head to clear the image, Arnold waited to see what his level-headed daughter would say in response.

"Oh. You know, as illogical as it sounds, it actually makes sense."

_WHAT?!_

"Aw, hun, are there ninja midgets in your uterus?" Helga asked, completely serious and caring and not acknowledging the fact that her sentence was crazy.

"Yeah, that's what it feels like." Jillian groaned, and Helga laughed at her daughter's smile.

"Well, ice cream and warmth around your middle tend to help. And I suppose changing your pad or tampon does too, just so long as you have the right one." Arnold groaned. He didn't want to walk in and be forced into this conversation by Helga, but the ice cream was starting to numb his hand.

"Really mom? What products are the right ones?" Helga laughed and began running her fingers through her daughter's hair again.

"Well, Jilly Bean, I suppose it all depends on the woman and her vaginal size, whether she's a Deer, Mare, or Elephant. Just like different clothes sizes, some sizes in tampons and pads fit better than others.

"And then there's the flow. Some are better for heavier days, and some for lighter. So really, it all depends on the woman; but there is one product I urge you to never use." Both Jillian and Arnold were interested now.

"What is it mom? Why can't I ever use it?"

_Please tell me I didn't get the wrong one._

"Jillian, you must solemnly swear that you will never _**ever**_ use pads . . . with wings." Arnold quickly dug into the bag and pulled out the large package of heavy flow pads. With a breath of relief, he found that that he had, in fact, bought the kind _**without**_ wings.

_Wait, why am I so nervous? So what if I had bought the kind with wings? . . . _A quick look at his wife and he knew the answer . . . _It's because she's scary when she's mad._

"Why shouldn't I ever get the kind with wings?" the voice of his daughter brought Arnold back into the realization of his predicament.

"Because they are the worst invention ever to capitalize on a woman's monthly flow – they never work! Just when you think you have it in the right spot, you move and find it's positioned _**wrong**_, and so you have to readjust it, then the wings come off your panties, and now you're stuck with just a pad with parts that'll chaff because you don't want to waste anymore!"

Both women were quiet for a moment, before they started laughing, and Arnold deemed it safe to announce his presence.

"Guys! I'm home! And I have ice cream!" he walked into the living room, towards the kitchen doorway. Unfortunately for Arnold, he failed to see the wicked smile and nod Helga gave their daughter – nor the mirror look she returned.

"_**Daaaaad . . . . !**_ There're ninja midgets in my uterus!" Jillian whined, and both women heard a simultaneous _thump-crash-shatter-clatter_ come from the kitchen, signaling them that he had heard them. No doubt he was carrying the ice cream, bowls and spoons to the table, and dropped them. Helga let out a mixture between a sigh and a laugh, and lifted her daughter's head off her lap to go help her forlorn husband. As she made her way around the couch, Jillian looked up at her with a pitiful expression.

"Mom, I really do have ninja midgets in my uterus." Helga stopped for a moment, before turning and kissing her daughter's forehead.

"I'll bring back some Midol." At her daughter's smile, she made her way back to the kitchen. She stopped at the archway to look at the back of the couch with a smirk.

"Just you wait till you get Star Wars in there."

A groan was the only response she received.

HA


	2. The Interview

_**Disclaimer: Alright, you caught me, I lied. I thought of this while working in the garden this morning, and **_Well, There's A Midget_** could use a little company. Hey Arnold does not belong to me. Hope you enjoy it. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

"_How did you two first meet?_"

Gerald was sitting on the couch, one leg over his knee as he gazed at the interviewer. They had been here for a good ten minutes, playing twenty questions, with a shit load more than twenty. His sights then shifted to the notebook in the young man's hand, then the tape recorder he had placed on the table. Heaving a sigh, he smiled at the youth before stretching. This was going to be a long talk.

"Well, we had gone to school together since Pre-K, although we never really traveled in the same circles. I guess when we really started hanging out was at a party a mutual friend of ours was throwing." With amused eyes, Gerald watched the young man sitting across from him franticly write down notes to remember, incase the tape got all screwed up.

He didn't put it past the evil technology, especially since he was technically-impaired.

"_And when did you first know that you loved her?_" Well, that was fast. Gerald knew that that particular question was bound to come up; he just didn't think I would arrive so fast. With a smile, he reached for a small butter cream cookie his wife had laid out for the two; watching as the young man mimicked the action.

"Well, I suppose I had always had a crush on her, but you want to know love, right?" at his eager nod, Gerald sighed with a smile, "Figures. Well, my best friend Arnold was learning how to fly so he could journey to San Lorenzo to find his parents. Being my buddy and all, and always up for something new, I decided that whenever possible, I would be in the little plane with him." His eyes gained a faraway look to them, and it was as if the interviewer could see it as well, with stark clarity.

"I remember it so well. It was an abnormally and almost uncomfortably hot day in May – the only clouds not clouds at all, but trails from the big jets high above. Arnold had just taken off from one of Hillwood's little airports, and we were flying with relatively low altitude. He took us over a residential area we both knew as our own.

"She was there, in her backyard, working amid the large blossoming flowers and vegetables. She was dirty, and her hair was escaping from the sloppy bun she had thrown it into. For some reason, there was a pencil stuck in there, right before the hair tie. Her jean shorts were ripped, she was barefoot, and her white t-shirt had the relatively short sleeves rolled up even more.

"Any other man would have found this sight less then seductive or sexy, but at that moment I hadn't seen any thing or any one look as beautiful as she did. As we flew low overhead, she looked up, cupping her hands around her eyes to block the sun, and I knew she saw me. I felt it then, and I think she did too. It was no longer a crush, but so much more."

A small chuckle brought him out of his memories, and he readdressed the young man before him with an eye roll.

"Sure laugh all you want, but you weren't there. Now, what other questions do you have for me?" They young man smiled, before looking back at his notebook while Gerald snatched the second to the last cookie.

"_Ok, last one. How did you propose?_" Gerald choked on the sweet he was eating. That was _**way**_ faster than expected. Oh well, the kid wants to know? He'd tell him.

"I got down on one knee and said 'will you marry me?'" He laughed, and the kid laughed.

"_Ha, ha. Come on, how'd it happen?_" he was a persistent little shit, that was for sure.

"Fine. I took her out to a movie, and when I made the predictable move of draping an arm over her shoulders, dropped the ring down her low-cut t-shirt. When she glared at me and fished it out, she found the simple sapphire-encrusted ring, turned to me with a smile and said 'yes'. Satisfied?" Gerald asked with a smile as he ran a tired hand over his face. The young man before him smiled while turning off the recorder.

"No, but it'll have to do." He laughed, picking up all his tools while Gerald raised an eyebrow in curious bemusement.

"So, why did you need to do this interview for?"

"Come on dad, I told you, my Sophomore Honors English teacher wants us to do a report on this 'History of Our Parents' or something like that." At his dad's blank look, the young man laughed. "You know, that tight-ass woman you affectionately call the English Nazi." Recognition dawned on Gerald's face as he laughed, remembering his own teachers.

"Man I hated high school." He laughed out just as his wife entered the living room, a charming smile on her soft face.

"Nate, Dad, dinner's ready." She called out from her position leaning against the archway frame.

"Coming Mom." Both her boys chimed as Nate made his way towards his room to put his stuff away. She planted a quick kiss to his forehead as he passed, and laughed when Gerald approached her and playfully bent his head so she would kiss his as well. She did, and kissed his lips as well when he stood at his full height.

"English Nazi? Really Gerald, Helga and Arnold both would have your head if they heard the way you describe Mrs. Thompson to our son. They would probably forbid Jillian from seeing Nathan if he mutters that term around her." She chided as she entered the kitchen, Gerald tailing behind her closely. When she stopped at the sink, he used it to his advantage as he took her into his embrace.

"I'm sorry dear, but that woman reminds me of how much I hated high school." His wife laughed lightly as she swiftly removed herself from his grasp, moving instead to chop the lettuce for that night's quick salad.

"Oh please, Gerald. You hated high school because you couldn't play basketball all day to impress all the ladies." With a smirk, the dark skinned man helped chop the vegetables, slowly moving closer to his wife.

"You know the only one I was trying to impress was you." They both knew it to be the truth, and the blush that crossed her cheeks told them that she was still susceptible to his flattery. In swift move, Gerald pulled her into his arms, nibbling gently on her neck.

"I love you, Gerald Johanssen." She whispered, and after all these years, his heart still sped at the admission.

"I love you too, Phoebe Johanssen."

The couple was brought out of their moment at the sound of their son's gagging from the other side of the island.

"Eww, gross." He commented, and laughed when Phoebe broke away from her husband's embrace to throw a handful of chopped lettuce at her son's face.

"Just wait till we catch you and Jillian doing the same thing." She shot back, and Nathan would have retorted with something about not wanting another sibling, that Pippa was bad enough. He would have, had not his parents begun their onslaught of kissing noises.

He blushed.

They laughed.

He threw the lettuce right back.

HA


	3. Percentage

_**Disclaimer: Me? Own Hey Arnold? Pssh, maybe in another life. And in case no one knows (which, no offense, you probably don't) 'Suku' is one of the Finnish words for family. Because, you know, it would be stupid to name this work 'Family', and then what's the first word in the summary? Oh, right, family. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Rhonda sat on their little porch in the city, listening to the rush of traffic, car alarms, dogs, kids, and perhaps a siren or two. This was home. This was her home. Their home.

Her husband was currently inside, continuing the unpacking she had started but had gotten too tired to finish. The warmth from her chai tea slipped from the mug and into her hands, and she relished the feel. She had missed this while she was away, there was no doubt about that.

As she sipped her tea, the phone rang, and she heard that wonderful husband of hers in his rush to get the phone, curse as he tripped over something, and then curse even louder when he found the phone was not where it should be.

"Darling, it's out here." She called, before reaching over and picking up the ringing object as her dark haired lover emerged from their home.

"Hello? Oh, hi Joleen. What? Oh my, well, geez, I don't know what to tell you dear. Hm? Oh, yes I'm fine, feeling much better now, thank you. Yes, he's right here, would you like to speak with him? Oh, alright then, I'll tell him. Take care. Bye." As she ended the call, her husband sat at the table across from her, eying the phone suspiciously.

"That was your sister." Rhonda informed him as he sighed, but laughed good-naturedly.

"Figures she calls here, but doesn't want to talk to me, her wonderful younger brother." Curly whined as Rhonda took another drink of her tea before passing it to him.

"Well, remember she did once ask me to replace you as her little sister." She laughed quietly, and Curly nodded as he took a small sip of his wife's tea.

"So, what did she have to say? Maggie still wants an Er-Hu like her mother?" Curly joked, watching as Rhonda's face became more mischievous.

"Actually, she was in tears." Rhonda stated simply, and gazed at her husband as he looked worried, but still calm.

"Well, that doesn't surprise me much. Ever since she became pregnant with Maggie, she cried often. She was happy, she cried. Sad, she cried. Ted buys her a new fridge, she cries. What's the cause this time?" The two laughed at the memory, and Rhonda took a sip of her tea, before giving Thaddeus the reason over the rim of the mug.

"Well, apparently, she's the one percent." She hinted, then returned to watching the neighborhood flourish from their vantage point. And so they sat in silence for a few lingering moments, before Curly let out a harsh laugh, and turned to his wife.

"She's the one percent?" At his wife's nod, he laughed louder, "It was the second honeymoon, when they went to Hawaii. I'd bet my life on it." They laughed, before returning to their own thoughts on Joleen's predicament.

A few months ago, she had gone through the surgery that uses a metal coil to block and seal the fallopian tubes, acting as a permanent form of birth control. The doctor had told them that it was ninety nine percent effective, but there was that one percent that still became pregnant. Figuring that the one percent is always someone else, the two decided to go on a second honeymoon, leaving their ten year old daughter Maggie with Curly, Rhonda and her cousin Katie.

Apparently anyone can be that one percent.

"_This shit always happens to me! We __**really**__ didn't want another kid! But now that we are, we __**can't wait**__! And I'm bawling my eyes out over this! Fucking hormones!_" Rhonda recalled her hormonally frustrated sister-in-law, and laughed. She then thought back to when Maggie had stayed with them.

Maggie was such a helpful girl, especially for her uncle when Rhonda had to stay in the hospital when her treatment became too intense. Turning to her husband, she wanted nothing more than to go over and enjoy the moment like they had so many years ago, in Philmore and in the little cleaners they now own and run together. But she couldn't for two reasons; one because Katie was still in the house, and while they enjoyed embarrassing their fifteen year old, they would like to keep what little dignity they have left. The second was because the chemotherapy drained her of her energy.

Curly noticed his wife's look, and walked over, removing her multicolored scarf to gaze at her beautiful, bald head. He placed a kiss to her scalp, the buried his head in her breasts. She already had one removed, and he wouldn't care if she removed the other so long as she stayed with him.

He remembered the first time she was home after the mastectomy, when she was in the shower and he was brushing his teeth. He heard her crying, and opened the shower curtain to see her staring down at her single breast, feeling the emptiness where the other had been all her life till then. She turned to him with a sad smile, and motioned for him to join her. As they stood there, naked and embracing in the spray, he heard her begin to whisper in his ear.

"It's not that I wish it was still here and riddled with cancer – I'm glad that's gone. It's just strange; we had bonded so well, it was a part of me, and now one of them is gone. I don't think I'll ever get use to the sight of it missing." He just kissed her, comforting her as best he could.

They had thought it was gone, but when she had gone in for a check up not too long ago, they found a suspicious lump in the other breast as well. Instead of having them take it off, Rhonda decided to go with chemo, and if it still didn't go away, she would just endure with only the memory of what had once been there.

Bringing him out of his memory was the feeling of Rhonda caressing his head and kissing his forehead. They remained like that in silence in what could have been forever, but the soft click of a camera going off had them both look towards the door, finding their daughter Katie smile kindly as she lowered the view finder from her face.

"Oh, I ruined the moment." She said softly, and her parents shook their heads.

"You could never ruin the moment, Katie." Rhonda said as she beckoned her daughter into the embrace she already had her husband in. They stayed that way, talking to each other about everything, from cancer, to school, to dating, to work, until they finally told their daughter she would have another cousin soon. Seeing as she only had one Aunt, it wasn't too hard to figure out.

Katie Gammelthorpe's laughter was added to the sounds of late morning Hillwood flourishing.

***

In the living room of the small home, Curly stood with his arms around Rhonda, his wife and soul mate. They were looking at a black and white 8x10 photograph in a dark wood frame hanging on the wall. Katie, it seems, was quite the photographer, as the picture she had taken truly showed the deep connection and love her parents had with one another.

Rhonda's bald head was uncharacteristically revealed, shining slightly in the warming sun. Her husband was affectionately holding her close, nuzzling her breast while she looked down at him contently.

Holding her closer still, Curly kissed her neck and cheek, before whispering reassuringly into her ear.

"We'll be a percentage too. I can feel it."

HA


	4. Morning

_**Disclaimer: Don't tell me, I already know – I'm stalling the completion of **_The Tragedy of Errors_**, but that's life. Oh, and Hey Arnold does not belong me. This chapter, so you know, is the one that really earns the 'M' rating. Read, Review and Spread the word.**_

HA

Dirty blonde hair splayed out across the pillow, slightly curly from last night's shower. Her eyes were closed, her chest gently rising and falling with her breath. She shifted, and the sheet that was delicately wrapped around her not-so-delicate frame slipped free, exposing a broad and somewhat bronze shoulder. The slight chill that graced her now showing flesh resulted in chicken skin; and when she shivered he was no longer content with just watching her.

Leaning over, he kissed her naked shoulder softly, absorbing the sigh her sleeping lips allowed to escape.

"_I've been waitin' so long, to be where I'm goin'. In the sunshine of your love_." He whispered, and the woman beneath him stirred, stretching and nearly clocking her lover in the face. He avoided the backhand with years of practice, and stared transfixed as her eyes slowly adjusted to the morning.

"Morning." He whispered against her lips, which he captured for a wake-up kiss.

"Mmm, good morning." She replied, and laughed gently when he began to kiss her more vigorously.

"Have I ever told you you are unavoidably attractive in the morning?" He asked as he moved his lips from hers to her neck, nudging apart her naked legs.

"Have I ever told you we're already married, and you don't need to hit on me?" Her counter question had him laughing as she lifted her hips and further spread her legs to better accommodate her husband. He growled as his large frame slipped over hers, so close to their ultimate intimacy, and yet so far from his goal.

"Everyday, but I never learn. Maybe you should teach me a lesson." He suggested, enjoying the feeling of her hands slithering down his back to squeeze his cheeks.

"Mmm, sounds like a plan to me." She agreed, and angled her hips so he could slide in, rhythmically clenching and relaxing her inner-muscles as he entered her. As soon as he was buried to the hilt, Harold Berman shuddered almost violently, not moving as he rested his head on his wife's neck. She moaned at the feel of him inside her this early, and let out a breathy laugh when his right hand reach up to squeeze one of her breast.

"Jeez Patty, since when were they so big?" He asked, referring to her now 38 D sized breasts. She would have smacked him upside the head, had it not been for the particularly well-angled thrust he gave.

"Since children, Harold." She retorted while clenching again, forcing a moan from his lips and another haphazard breast-squeeze/neck-kiss.

Their morning sex was always like this. Witty banter and quiet, breathy moans with slow and methodical thrusts; they had yet to be busted by any one of their three children, and now that they were all a bit older, the odds of getting caught slimmed down quite a bit.

"Why did we have children again?" Harold asked as he felt his orgasm building in both the back of his mind and the pit of his stomach.

"A couple of, ungh, reasons. Your mother wouldn't stop, oh _God_, hounding us." She began to list, and Harold bit down on the juncture of her neck.

"Isaac." He agreed. Their first son was partly because his mother Marilyn, in standard Berman-Jewish family tradition, had been asking for grandchildren since their announced engagement.

"And then, oh, nghagh, we knew pregnancy sex was so, uh _**fuc**_ – great." Patty tried to continue, even as Harold rearranged them so he was straddling one of her legs with the other partially wrapped around his waist backwards.

"Diana." His only baby girl. And it was true, Isaac's gestation had shown the Bermans just how interesting and pleasurably pregnant sex can be. And they always wanted more than one child, both being only children themselves.

"And finally, oh _baby_, we just weren't, **yes**, oh, very safe." His thrusts were more forceful, and the two were surprised the bed wasn't squeaking yet.

"Elijah." The baby of the family, and the accident; although they didn't tell _**him**_ that until he was older.

Patty felt her climax rapidly approaching, and hissed out her release as she clenched down on Harold so hard he went momentarily cross-eyed.

"_**Yes**_." It slithered out from between her lips while Harold discharged both his orgasm, and a sound somewhere between a groan and a yelp. Patty chuckled softly as she rearranged their positions again so Harold was once more between her legs and fully collapsed on her chest. After his post-orgasm shaking had subsided quite a bit, Harold lifted his head and kissed his wife softly.

"God I love you, so much." His whispered urgently, and she smiled warmly.

"You better." He growled again, and there were a number of things the couple could have done at that moment, but fate it seemed intervened.

"_Mom? Dad? Are you awake yet?_" Harold lifted his head to look at the door his daughter's voice just drifted through. Patty sighed and sat up as he removed himself from between her legs to look for a pair of sweatpants.

"Yeah sweetie, we're up. Why don't you go get your brothers and tell them I'm just about to start breakfast?" Patty answered as she looked at the nightstand clock, not bothering to hold up the sheet to cover her naked chest.

"_Alright._" Was the reply Diana gave, before returning down the hallway. Patty sighed, and flipped off the sheet, only to have Harold nearly tackle her to the bed again. He sloppily kissed her breasts, making loud smacking noises and causing her to laugh, before tearing himself from her grasp and heading towards the adjoining bathroom. She smiled at her husband's antics, then the sound of her children thundering past their room and down the stairs towards the kitchen.

As she found a clean pair of clothes from the dresser, she smiled at the memory of her own mother telling her that she and her father still had a sex life. At the time it mortified Patty, but now she realized her mother made perfect sense, and was somewhat preparing her for her own married life.

_Most kids think that once they're born, their parents stop having sex all together; but that's almost as far away from the truth as you can get, dear._ That was what her mother had told her. And as she listened to her own children causing a racket downstairs, and her husband singing to himself as he shaved, she smirked.

Those kids of hers really have no idea.

HA


	5. Potting

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey Arnold. When you read these, keep in mind I'm progressing with each of these chapters. Jillian from the first one is Eddie's older sister, and she was 14 in that one; now it's a few years later. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

The three middle-aged-teens stood on the corner of Mrs. Vitello's Flower Shop and Mr. Green's Meats, acting as inconspicuous as possible, and many would say that they were succeeding. But then, most people should have known better, considering just who they were the children of. Eddie Moser, youngest child of Arnold and Helga Moser, Diana Berman, middle child of Harold and Patty Berman, and Sophie Horowitz, the oldest twin of Eugene and Sheena Horowitz, were standing casually by one of the lampposts. Just what were they doing, in trying to act so unnoticeable? Why, what any sixteen year-old in Hillwood City with a little extra cash would do: buy pot.

They had already convened earlier and counted out forty bucks each, and were now waiting for their friend Toni Amar to show with the weed. Toni, he elaborated, would be 'barrowing' the plant from his dad's garden, and that he wouldn't be charging, but donations would be much appreciated. Because they were all such good friends and all.

So far none of the adults that knew their parents since infancy had an idea of what was going down, but Mrs. Vitello kept coming outside to water her plants.

"Crimmeney, I think Mrs. V is onto us." Eddie mentioned, then tried to motion subtlety towards the very old woman who was outside once again.

"How can you tell?" Sophie asked while looking over her shoulder. Mrs. Vitello was watering another potted plant, all the while watching them.

"Dude, she's watered that plant like, four times now." Diana laughed, before glancing down at her watch.

"Shit, where is he? He said he'd be here by three, and it's now three forty five." She whined, softly throwing herself back against the lamppost. Sophie bit back a laugh and Eddie just grinned.

"I think someone's in love." he teased, and Diana turned a bright red, and emitted a growl.

"I _don't_ love Toni. Outrageously late, stupid joke telling, tone-deaf, vulgar, spontaneous, sweet, cute, err, Toni." She tried to finish strong, but one look at her friends' amused eyes told her she was busted.

"Yeah, that's love alright." Sophie laughed while taking her best friend's hands into her own.

"So, when are you going to tell him?" Eddie asked while checking behind him to see if Mrs. Vitello was still outside watching them. She was.

"Never." Diana insisted, and smiled when Sophie gripped her hands with her mouth agape.

"Well, if you won't tell him, I will." at Diana's shocked face she continued, "That's what vagina-buddies are for." She laughed, and Diana thought about it for a moment, before changing her look to one of pure cunning.

"Hm, you're right." Turning towards Eddie, she smirked, "Sophie is head-over-heels in love with you." Her smirk almost looked painful as Sophie blushed, but didn't look away from Eddie's gaze.

"Is that true, Sophie?" he asked softly, and Sophie grinned cheekily.

"Well, yeah, otherwise she wouldn't of said it." He looked shell shocked, but before he could reply, a voice raspy with age and use broke the tension.

"Just what're you kids doing over here that requires you to stand in front of my shop for nearly an hour?" The three teens turned their heads simultaneously to see Mrs. Vitello approach them in all her ninety-something glory. All the color that had previously flooded the girls' faces had drained out just as quickly.

"Uh, hey Mrs. V, what brings you out here on this slightly chilly day?" Sophie asked sweetly, and Mrs. Vitello smiled back in kind.

"I just told you, you kids did." Before they could come up with a good reason, Mrs. Vitello spoke again, and he smile turned crafty.

"If you're waiting for Toni, his dad took him to get a used car since he now has his license." Trying to not let their surprise show, Eddie shrugged and leaned against the nearest brick wall in what he hoped was a casual way.

"What makes we're waiting for Toni?" he asked smoothly, and Mrs. Vitello rolled her eyes.

"Hey, contrary to popular belief, I too was young once. That, and I saw this with your parents, and knew it was only a matter of time before I saw it with you. Come on, I'll set you up with what he was going to give you." She then turned and began to hobble across the street. Eddie, Diana and Sophie just watched her for a moment before quickly catching up with her.

"Mrs. V, you're like, ancient!" Sophie exclaimed, and Mrs. Vitello laughed at their naiveté. They followed her into her shop, and towards a back room that was labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY. Once she opened the door, the kids caught sight of a mini greenhouse-marijuana farm.

"Where do you think Iggy got his plants?" that wrinkled old face smirked, and Sophie just about fainted. After they had weighed out their own baggies, they turned to Mrs. Vitello while pulling out their wallets.

"So, how much do we owe you?" Eddie asked, but Mrs. V held up her hand to stop them.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told your parents when they were your age. The first one is on the house, and after that I'll charge you accordingly." Once again the teens were shocked, but it faded faster than last time, and they smiled at the old woman's kindness.

"Thanks Mrs. V." Diana thanked, and she and Eddie were out the door, while Sophie stayed to walk out with the old woman.

"Say, Mrs. Vitello, why do you grow pot?" she asked casually as the grey haired lady locked up the back room.

"Because I've been growing and smoking it for as long as I can remember – it seems stupid to stop just because it's illegal. Now get going, before your friends leave without you." Sophie smiled and exited the shop, only to trip and fall just outside the door. Diana and Eddie stopped to look at her, worried, but she glanced up at them with a sheepish smile.

"I'm okay!" she announced, before standing and brushing herself off. By this time, Mrs. Vitello was standing outside the shop, shaking her head with a reminiscent smile.

"Oh, kids, before I forget." She called to stop them, and they all turned to look at her curiously.

"I won't tell if you won't."

The four of them shared a secretive smile, before Eddie returned to shake her hand.

"Deal." He agreed, and went back to his friends as they continued walking. As the old woman watched them, she smiled as Eddie reach down and took Sophie's hand, interlacing their fingers. Eddie was like his father that way, knowing what the girl of his heart needs to hear or feel when she's vulnerable. And the sight before her was certainly a blast from the past.

With a soft little sight, Mrs. Vitello turned back into her shop to continue her potting.

HA


	6. Still A Chance

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, isn't that sad? Sorry this took so long, I had crazy scheduling at work, and then when this was finished, the login was being stupid. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Eugene's eyes just popped open, declaring silently that he could no longer sleep. The delicious and mouth-watering smell of eggs frying in butter caressed his nose as he stretched beneath the top sheet. Sheena was making breakfast already? He knew she was always an early riser, but this was just silly; his alarm hasn't even gone off yet.

"Kind of bright for five thirty, though . . ." he thought as he saw the cloudy light seeping in from between the window blinds. On a whim, he rolled over to look at the digital clock: **9:50 am**.

"Huh?" dazed, Eugene sat up, rubbing the sleep crust from his eyes while adjusting his pajamas and making his way towards the kitchen. As soon as he reached the threshold change from carpet to linoleum, an invisible force field wrapped around his ankles, causing him to face plant at his wife's feet.

"Eugene!" she called out with soft concern, and he grinned sheepishly.

"I'm okay!" he declared as he righted himself to pour a mug of coffee, and Sheena smiled warmly while slipping bread in the toaster and flipping the eggs. He turned to watch her as she made their breakfast, the house quiet and peaceful with the twins still not home after staying the weekend with their Aunt Shelley.

"I think the alarm in the clock is broken, it didn't go off this morning." Eugene informed as he opened the paper. Sheena didn't miss a beat, pulling out the newly popped up toast while simultaneously placing an egg on each slice and shutting off the burner.

"It's not broken. I turned it off last night before I went to bed." She replied, smiling as she handed him his plate and a fork, her husband looking at her incredulously.

"Why?" she giggled, and Eugene began to wonder when the last time he heard that sound was.

"Today is your day off Eugene, and you work early tomorrow. I wanted you to get as much sleep as you could." Sheena explained, pouring herself a glass of orange juice, coffee never really agreed with her anyway.

The two were silent at the table for a while, with only the sounds of silverware scraping against plates and the little corner radio playing, before Sheena let out a sigh that was somewhat broken and tired. Eugene stopped what he was doing to look at her in surprise. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and offered him a withered smile, like a pansy that hadn't been watered in days in the summer heat.

"I know how you feel, Eugene, and I'm sorry for it." He was about to ask what she meant, when _Hotel California_ by the Eagles began to play, and Eugene understood what she was saying. He felt trapped in this marriage, like the man in the song was trapped in that place. Of course he cared for Sheena greatly, she had always been his best friend growing up, but he didn't think he was ever in love with her. After graduation, he knew that the odds of him finding a woman perfect for him were slim to none, and that Sheena in fact had this deep crush on him. As terrible as it sounds, he settled for what was convenient.

She loved him, and they both loved Sophie and Stephanie more than themselves, yet Eugene never felt strongly about Sheena. And he had never been unfaithful to her, though the opportunities had presented themselves time and again, and the temptation was great.

But he had no idea that Sheena knew how he felt.

"Sheena -" he began, but she silenced him by standing up and taking her plate over to the sink.

"I know what you're going to say, Eugene, about how sorry you are, and I know that you would be sincere. But I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it because that makes it real, and I've tried so hard in pretending that we're deeply in love and have a happy family, but it's not true. I know that I'm deeply in love with you, but I also know that you don't feel the same." her voice was always so soft, and Eugene questioned how long she felt this way and how he didn't notice. Maybe she's always known, since he never called her endearing names of affection, like darling or honey. She used to always call him sweetie: when did she stop?

"Maybe I'm just crazy; isn't Einstein's definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? In all honesty, Eugene, I would understand, and even accept it if you want to find someone who you can love with your whole being. Because I want you to be utterly happy, and it's getting so hard for me to try and give that to you." Eugene watched in surprise as she rinsed off the plate and put the dishes in the dishwasher, before turning to look at him with that soft, broken smile of hers. Before Eugene could react, Sheena stole a quick glance at the clock, then grabbed her purse from the counter.

"I'll go pick up the girls from the airport, so we'll be home in a few hours." She explained, and just when she was at the front door she stopped to look at him with nothing but sincerity etched on her face.

"You know, I was so happy when Rhonda predicted we'd be married in the fourth grade; and I'm still amazed that she was right. I just wish that she predicted we would be happily married and in love, instead of just married." Sheena finished, before turning on her heel and leaving. Even as he heard the car door shut, and their safe mini-van pull out the driveway and down the street, Eugene didn't move a muscle. His mind kept going over what his wife had told him, again and again and again. How could he not notice he was hurting her so much? Did he break her, with every touch and every smile and every kiss he really didn't mean?

"I'm not okay . . ." he whispered to himself, before moving towards the phone to make a few calls. He was going to make it up to her by acting like the husband he should have been all along. And he was going to start by taking her on a date tonight to Chez Pierre, after he ordered her a dozen pink roses complete with an apology card.

And maybe by acting like a man in love he'll be able to experience the real thing. After all, Sheena deserved it, and was definitely worth it.

HA


	7. Smoke Break

_**Disclaimer: Psst, I'll let you in the loop: Hey Arnold? Yeah, it isn't mine. This chapter has more personal experience than usual, so I hope you enjoy it. Read, Review, and Spread the word. **_

HA

"It's green, bitch!"

Nate sent a sidelong glance at his best friend as she shouted at the cars in front of them who weren't getting off the line fast enough. There was no animosity in her voice, they were early for work and there was no hurry. That statement was just a habit neither one of them could shake. She laughed and took a swig of her thermos as the Mazda in front of them turned up their music.

"What's in the can?" he asked curiously, and she smirked that infamous Moser smirk her mother invented and Jillian perfected.

"Eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog, adder's fork, and blind worm sting, lizard's leg, and howlet's wing." She replied, while Nate laughed with a nod.

"So it's hot cider then." he affirmed before taking a modest drink, lest he burn his tongue. Again.

As Nate watched her accelerate towards the next set of traffic lights, her hands tapping in time with the erratic beats of the jazz-rock fusion CD they were listening to, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. She was just so damn beautiful, and she really had no idea – and if she did, she sure as hell didn't care. But he did.

They've been best friends since birth, seeing as their moms and dads were as well. Although once the Age of Hormones hit, he couldn't help but see her in a different, more sexual light; and being the shy guy he is, didn't say a word. His mom knew about his crush, told his dad, and now they both make fun of him about it, yet he knew that was one of their ways of telling him to get up the balls to ask her out.

"It's green, bitch!"

Once again her call broke him from his thoughts, and he finally noticed a purple line on the back of her arm just below the wrist. It was starting to blister, so he figured it was a burn of some sort, but she didn't have it yesterday. Nodding towards it, Nate questioned Jill about it.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, and she looked at her wound, before laughing and pulling into the Best Buy parking lot.

"I got into a fight with the iron this morning. It burned me, so I unplugged it." Jillian explained as she locked up her car – a red 1971 ford mustang, a hand-me-down gift from her mother for being the first born. They laughed, enjoying the looks of amusement their coworkers shot them as they entered, clocked in, snatched up a pair of working headsets and went straight to their areas.

Jillian professionally walked around the registry counter and began flipping through the week's ad, waiting for a customer ready to check out. Nate, meanwhile, moved behind the asset protection desk to watch the security cameras and marking products people bring in.

"_How's it going over there Rep 1_?" Nate shot through the headset, and Jill laughed while not looking up at him.

"_It's Customer Specialist now, smart one_." She smirked, before sliding the ad away and greeting her first customer of the day – of course he was tax exempt and wanted to do two separate transactions.

"_Right, Customer Specialist now, I forgot_."

"And if you go to our website, fill out a survey you could enter to win a $5,000 shopping spree at Best Buy. Thank you, and have a good day." Jill continued, ignoring her best friend's antics as she went back to browsing the ad.

"_So, how's it going over there Customer Specialist_?" she looked up momentarily, and caught sight of a middle-aged woman walking through the front doors with a large computer tower in her arms. She blew right past Nate and headed straight for Customer Service.

"_I should be asking you that. Missed one_." Nate looked at her confused, until he saw the woman walking with determination.

"Ma'am! Ma'am, hold on Ma'am!" he called, chasing after her with the ticket dispenser. Jillian laughed, and greeted the next customer. Of course, he was rather irate she knew she could only grin and be peaceable.

***

Much later in the day Jillian was sitting on the designated smoke bench, trying to enjoy her singular stress-relieving cigarette before her fifteen minutes of freedom ended and she had to go back to manning the cash register. It had stopped raining just before her break started, and the lingering smell of everything wet and rejuvenated hit her nose as the sun broke through the dark clouds. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as strong as the residents of Hillwood would have liked, as the ominous black clouds began returning.

"Jillian, are you smoking?" The purely male voice that could make her legs go to jelly interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see Nate standing shell shocked. Jillian looked down at the mostly smoked cigarette between her fingers, before returning his gaze with a half smile and a shrug.

"It's one of my vices – one cigarette a day at break to help with the stress." She explained, tapping off the excess ash into the awaiting sand can. Nate just sat down next to her, watching with intent curiosity. She smirked, but wouldn't look at him.

"You know Nate, it's really hard to enjoy my death of choice when you're staring at me like that." She informed him, finally turning her head with a smile. He shook his own head with a smile, as if chasing away a thought.

"Sorry, just never pegged you for a smoker. Although I guess it's expected; we work crazy hours, deal with crazy people, and are supposed to be pleasant all the time. Oh hell, lemme see that." Jill laughed as she handed over the last bit of cigarette, before looking at her watch with a disappointed sigh.

"Damn, back to the salt mines. Let's go."

She pulled him to his feet, barely waiting for him to stamp out the butt. Something in that nicotine stick of death must have given him courage, because they had barely taken four steps towards the door when Nate spun her around and slammed his lips onto hers. There was no pause of confusion or hesitation; it was as if Jillian knew what was going to happen, like she expected it. Nathan excitedly invaded her mouth with his tongue, and she fought back with just as much vigor; their hands roaming and caressing and pinching. They stopped, not when they ran out of air, but when Jillian's back hit the brick wall with a forceful thud.

"I've been wanting to do that since puberty." Nate admitted, and she smiled charmingly, taking in the dark skin of his father and the eyes of his mother.

"That's good. I've been waiting for it since puberty." Jill laughed, and Nate swooped in to kiss her again, enjoying the feeling of her knee brushing against his now very intense erection. They were slower, more sensual this time around, and she moaned as he copped a feel.

"It's a good thing you have a counter to hide behind." She whispered in his ear, and he laughed while trying to catch his breath on her shoulder.

"Yeah . . ." he panted, and the two probably would have started again, had not three of their coworkers called out to them.

"That was one of the hottest things I've seen on these cameras ever." Starly's deep voice rang out, and the two nineteen year olds laughed.

"Hey Jillian, what's in the thermos today?" came Z's voice, and the young blonde in Nate's arms smirked at the other mulatto man.

"Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, witch's mummy, maw and gulf, of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, liver of blaspheming Jew –no offense – gull of goat, and slips of yew silver'd in the moon's eclipse, nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips, finger of a birth-strangled babe ditch-deliver'd by a drab." She listed off as she and Nate went back to start their shifts, hand in hand no less. She did feel kind of bad about the Jewish comment, seeing as Starly is Jewish; but Shakespeare was the one who wrote it, and he knew that. He also knew that was just how Jillian is.

"So it's hot cider."

HA


	8. Christine

_**Disclaimer: This came into my head last night on the way home from work. Short, but to the point. It's a little bit different from the other chapters I think, and the car is the copy & paste of my car. So if it seems like I'm having a love affair, it's because I am. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

She was his favorite thing to watch, at least while driving. She always had a smile on her face: night, day, heavy traffic or deserted road, that smile was always on her lips. She moved with the automobile on the corners, her eyes mischievous as she entered her own world. When using anything found on the steering column, she was so fluid and subtle that no one ever really caught it. It was as if she controlled the car with her mind; that she and the machine were one living being. As if the _**car **_were a living being, and an extension of her own body.

And with her behind the wheel, maybe it was.

It was as unique as she was, every piece inside and out exuding her presence. The hand-me-down '95 Subaru was red, not flashy but noticeable. It had been rear-ended, causing the gas gage to almost always read out as empty; she had learned to rely on the tripometer. A necklace he had made for her, purple Marti Gras beads and a small toy model of a yellow 1931 Duesenberg Model J Blind Quarter Club Sedan hanging from the rear-view mirror. – She always said it was the car of her deepest dreams, and that toy was as close as she'd ever get to owning one. – There was a cigarette burn marring the leather in the back seat. The floor mats had long since been discarded to the trunk. Duck tape held in the front right head light from when she backed into the garage door. Dents on all doors as well as the hood rested proudly, displaying a history new cars can't boast. Four stickers on the back window helped the car stick out like even more of a sore thumb: Who Would Jesus Bomb; Rubber Soul; Driver Hammered Get Nailed; and Nuclear Arms Can't Hug.

It was more than just a Subaru Legacy, it was _**her**_ Legacy. And she named her Christine.

At the current moment, Isaac Berman was buckled in the passenger seat of his girlfriend's car, shifting his gaze from the reflection of the bright numbers of her stereo in the night windshield, to the smile on her lips as she lightly tapped the wheel in time with the music. Oncoming headlights alerted and made her smile widen; he didn't even see her shift her hand as the brights in Christine were replaced by the regular driving lights. As soon as the other car passed, the brights resumed, and that smile was replaced with a smirk. Before he had the chance to ask, he felt the air rush through his window, and turned to see a fast moving train on the tracks beside them. Well, as much as he could see with the dark, at least. Her window was also rolled down, and the music turned itself up all while Isaac smiled as he realized what his insanely entertaining girlfriend was about to do.

"WHOO!" she cheered as she shifted out of drive and into third gear – an action he was able to catch. He felt the machine surrounding him change, and a quick glance at the speedometer told him that they were approaching sixty on the winding country back roads.

Had it been someone else, or were he a lesser man, he would have been nervous. But she had done this many times before, both with and without him. She knew exactly what she was doing.

For twelve miles they raced that industrial train, power-fisting their arms out the windows and cheering every time they crossed paths via tunnels and bridges. Laughing every time the engineer gave them some sort of sign that he knew they were there. All the engineers had long since known her antics, much like those of her father.

At last, the two racing transports reached the outskirts of Hillwood City, and the train let loose its blaring horn early as it curved towards the industrial area. The two in the car honked their horn, waving as well as they slowed to adjust to the speed difference.

Isaac went back to watching her as she hummed a bit before pulling off to stop at the nearest gas station for slushies and maybe a quickie-mart corndog.

"What?" she finally asked as she gently killed the engine, rubbing the steering wheel lovingly as she stared down her boyfriend.

"Just wondering how you manage to drive your car like it's a living thing."

Katie Gammelthorpe smirked before leaning over to kiss his lips softly.

"That's because she is. Now come on, you promised you'd pay this time." She laughed while slipping out of the driver's seat, hauling a bemused Isaac behind her. If only he looked at Christine the way Katie did, with open eyes, then maybe he would be able to hear the overheating sigh of exhaustion at racing a train. Or how when you look at the front just right, it's as though the headlights were eyes and the bumper a smiling mouth. Or how when he holds a soft hand to the metal body, he can feel the soft tingling of steel flesh coming alive.

Katie heaved a sigh matching Christine's as she pushed the convenience store door open while sending a wistful glance back at her metal companion. But as she caught the gaze of the woman behind the counter, the two shared a secretive smile and a knowing nod. She laughed, realization hitting her with a strong case of typical Gammelthorpe humor.

Isaac was just a boy after all, and boys just can't understand the sophistication of personification.

HA


	9. Movie Night

_**Disclaimer: I own neither Hey Arnold, nor Mr. Blue Eyes himself, the masterful Frank Sinatra. I know for this story people have been wanting me to blend the Generations again, so this is what you get. I hope you enjoy it, and Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Jillian and Eddie Mosier were on a secret mission, one in which failure means death or serious injury. They could only hope and pray that they remain undetected as they crept through the living room to the DVD rack, and pulled out an unlabeled case. Moving to the TV, they slipped in the unassuming disk into the player and watched as the blue home-made menu screen lit up the otherwise dark home. Just as they picked up the remote to choose, a voice interrupted the silence.

"Busted." Their father laughed as their mother flipped on the lights, momentarily blinding everyone present. As their eyes adjusted, Jill and Ed watched in horror as Helga took the case from off the TV, and opened it to see which one they chose. Jill, being the older of the two, approached her with determination.

"Come on mom, we just wanted to see why you keep them so guarded." She pleaded, and Arnold laughed as he leaned against the wall.

"Yeah mom, can't we watch it, please?" he joked, and Helga sent him a half-hearted glare.

"You're not helping Football Head." One glance at the pitiful looks of her children, and Helga sighed. "Alright, you can watch a few, but on the condition that _**I**_ pick which ones." They cheered, and Helga laughed as she put the DVD back in the case, returning to the shelf to find the one she'd been dying to show them.

"I'll make the popcorn!" Arnold called from the kitchen, and the remaining three could hear him already starting the microwave.

"Bring me back some hot cider!" his wife yelled from over her shoulder, followed quickly by the kids echoing her demand. Once Helga had the movie in the player, she picked up the phone and dialed a number she had committed to both heart and memory.

"Phoebs? Yeah, it's Helga. I know it seems kind of late, but tomorrow's Saturday, and Arnold and I made a discovery tonight. The kids want to watch some of my movies, so I think it's time. You take half, and I'll get the rest. Alright, love you too, see you in ten. Bye." With a smile at the somewhat nervous look Jill and Eddie gave her, Helga smiled and turned towards the kitchen.

"Hey Football Head, better open a few more bags! We're havin a house full!" She could hear his whoop of excitement as she turned to her now less frightened children.

"Why don't you guys go and grab every spare, movable chair you can find and lift safely, and bring back in here. We're going to need all the seating we can come up with."

Jillian was the first to read into her mother's words, and cheered with excitement as she grabbed Eddie's hand and hauled him off with her. Helga only laughed, and went back to grabbing more movies off the shelf.

This was going to be one hell of a movie night.

*

The Moser's living room hadn't been this crowded in ages, with all the parents cuddling on the couches and chairs, and the children scattered about on the floor around the TV. The popcorn had been dispersed as fairly as possible, meaning every two married couples had a bowl to share, and the kids were left to fend for themselves with only four bowls among them. They all watched the screen intently as Helga lifted the remote and skipped over the first option, entitled _Reproduction_; all the parents laughed while the kids could only wonder what was so damn funny.

"Hey, why don't we watch that one?" Jill bent backwards to look at her mother, while Helga laughed as Arnold growled a little at the residual jealously when he thought of that kid.

"Maybe later. I don't think your young eyes are ready for it yet; we'll start with the second one first." She explained while highlighting _Luck Be A Lady_ with a smile and elbowed Curly in the same moment Rhonda did. The kids that caught it didn't under stand it.

And then it started.

"_They call you lady luck, but there is room for doubt. At times you have a very un-lady-like way of running out_." Everyone who wasn't looking at the screen before was instantly pulled the sound of a young male voice singing. To the younger generation, it was a complete shock, but the elders found it simply hilarious memories.

"_Your on this date with me, the pickins have been lush. And yet before the evening is over, you might give me the brush._" Katie turned to look at her parents in a new light, while Curly laughed and began singing the words softly into Rhonda's ear.

"_You might forget your manners. You might refuse to stay. And so the best that I can do is pray_." The big band started up in the back ground, and Eddie turned to look at the adults he had been raised to respect.

"Mr. and Mrs. G?" he wondered, and Helga laughed.

"Actually, Eddie, back then they were Princess and Crazy."

The TV screen held a much younger Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe, and indeed, most of the adults, dressed in fabulous forties attire of zuit suits for the men and semi-raunchy chorus line dresses for the women. The set was a casino of some sort, with Curly in the middle and singing to the camera. As soon as he finished the word pray, Rhonda walked past him with a smile and the word 'Lady Luck' written in large lettering on a card on both the front and back of her dress.

"_Luck be a lady tonight. Luck be a lady tonight. Luck if you've been a lady to begin with; Luck be a lady tonight_." He pleaded while fallowing her around the floor. She would listen to him, smile and stroke his cheek, then move on when one of the background men seemed to be praying to her.

"_Luck let a gentleman see, how nice a dame you can be. I know the way you've treated other guys you've been with. Luck be a lady with me_." he told her back while getting off his knees.

"_A lady doesn't leave her escort; it isn't fair, it isn't nice. A lady doesn't wander all over the room and blow on some other guy's dice_." Having moved to one of craps table, Curly accentuated his statement with a fling of the dice, his eyes never leaving Rhonda's form.

"_Let's keep this party polite; never get out of my sight. Stick with me baby, I'm the fella you came in with. Luck be a lady tonight_." She had come over to him as he played dice, and Curly grabbed her arms, holding her still as he tried to explain how she should act.

"_Luck let a gentleman see, just how nice how nice a, a dame you can be. I know the way you've treated other guys you've been with. Hey, Luck be a lady with me_." he seemed sorrowful, and she smiled softly.

"_A lady doesn't leave her escort; it isn't fair, and it's not nice. A lady doesn't wander all over the room, and blow on some other guy's dice_." She pulled away from him and made her way about the room once more, ignoring his pleas.

"_So let's keep that party polite; never get out of my sight. Stick with me baby, I'm the guy that you came in with. Luck be a lady_," he started, and she stopped to hear him, "_Luck be a lady_," she turned to look at him as he dropped to his knees with his arms flung open to receive her, "_Luck be a lady tonight_." She walked up to him slowly, and smiled when he took her hand with a smile of her own.

"_Please_." Was his ending line in a stage whisper, and as she kissed his cheek, applause could be heard, and the kids realized this was filmed in front of an actual audience. As the light dimmed, Jill turned to her mother with a smile.

"Hey mom, how come we saw everyone in there but you?" she asked, and Helga smiled while grabbing the remote.

"That's because I wrote, directed, and filmed it. Why would I want to star in it too after all that work?" everyone laughed as the kids had more questions, but Helga had already directed the DVD back to the main menu.

"Now, who wants to see what happened when I turned your parents into zombies and let them loose on Hillwood City?" everyone laughed and cheered as the second generation of the Hillwood City Gang saw more of their parents' strange and rather amusing youth.

HA


	10. John Dies

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, right? Right. Nor do I own **_John Dies at the End, _**right? Right. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Helga stood in the book store, old school headphones that covered her whole ears and served as a hair band the only thing keeping her company. The music that flowed into her head had shifted several times, from the Beatles, to Led Zeppelin, to the soundtracks of Cabaret, Victor/Victoria, Zombieland and every kung fu movie ever made. She had been standing there for the last twenty minutes, staring at one book. Just one, the only one of its kind; it was a decent size, a quick inside glance totaled about 380 pages – roughly. The image across the dust cover was an open book with scribbles and writing on the words. And a hand with chipped green fingernail polish, a hand that stretched across the front, then spine, and ended on the back – severed and looking like a ham hawk.

But more than the cover Helga had meticulously studied, she was reading the title. Again. It was an amazing title really, one that left a multitude of questions, most of them sarcastic. It was scrawled on the back of the hand found of the cover, and don't let the author think she missed the replacement of at with the at symbol. Clever, very clever. Yet the question she needed answered before she even got lost in its pages was if she really wanted to read this lonely book with an interesting name.

_John Dies at the End_.

Or really, if she wanted to get technical, it would be _JoHN DIES (at symbol) the End: A NOVEL_. But did she really want to spend – quick glance at the back UPC - $24.99 on this book? It was the question that had kept her there for twenty one minutes, and would have kept her there all day, had it not been for the hand that touched her shoulder and made her jump. Spinning on her heal, Helga came face to face with Phoebe, who was motioning for her to take off the head phones.

Kung Fu Fighting massaging her neck, Helga smiled as she addressed her best friend.

"Hey Phoebs, what's up?"

"We're wrapping up, and Mr. Johnson wanted me to get you before we leave you at the book store, again. Did you find excellent references you can use on you paper?" Phoebe asked, and Helga noticed the large stack of heavy looking books in her short friend's arms. Taking the top four, she nodded, shutting off her Christmas-wrapping-paper orange ipod so she could hear more accurately.

"Yeah, they have an amazing film section here, although I did get most of my stuff at the library earlier, so this was more recreational for me. How about you?" Phoebe looked excited, and Helga almost regretted the question, afraid the Kent-Asian would self combust.

"Oh, I got most of my books at the library as well, but when I saw all the medical information they had here, I just couldn't help myself. Here, let me take those books, and I'll let Gerald carry them. Helga? Are you coming?" Phoebe called over her shoulder when she found that her friend, after handing over the reference books, had stopped walking.

"Yeah, just give me a sec." the blonde reassured, then turned and went back to John. Curiosity got the better over her, and Helga pulled the one and only copy off the shelf.

"What book is that?" Phoebe asked at the reproach of her best friend, but Helga waved her off and kept the cover pressed closely to her chest.

"It's just a book that I figured I could read at night on my trip since it'll be just me." Helga admitted, and Phoebe felt a rush of sympathy for her friend. Arnold shouldn't have been such a jerk to her, but then, Helga was finally getting the car she had been dreaming of – that 1971 Ford Mustang, Fastback, and in red.

After purchasing their books, the two joined Arnold and Gerald by the doors with the rest of their senior class, and allowed Mr. Johnson and the other English teacher – Mrs. Harmening – to herd them back on the bus so they could return to the school.

*

Needless to say, Helga never got the chance to read _JoHN DIES (at symbol) the End: A NOVEL_ on her way back from Arizona. And while in one aspect, that was a downer, the reason why made it completely forgivable. But she did make it up as soon she and Arnold returned home – well, mostly. She had a few things to take care of before she began this new book, such as losing Arnold to Lila, moving in with her sister and brother in law, being won back by Arnold, and moving back, all before Graduation. And then of course, was the moving to Kaua'i with Arnold and Benny.

In all honesty, she had forgotten about John and his dilemma, up until she was unpacking her books at the house they were renting. There it was, beneath The Holy Qur'an, the severed hand with chipped green fingernail polish. With a smile, Helga moved over to the couch, and began reading.

By the time six thirty rolled around, she was one third of the way through and would have kept on going had Arnold not come home with Chinese take out for dinner.

"Hm, looks like you got a lot done today, Helga." He laughed, and she blushed while remembering what page she was on.

"I can't help it, I just got sucked into a good book." He brushed away her half-assed apology and the two sat at the bare and un-decorated table, enjoying their beef chow mien and sweet and sour chicken. She didn't tell him about the book, even though he asked, liking the idea that it was her secret.

Just like she didn't touch the soy sauce.

It took Helga only two months to finish _JoHN DIES (at symbol) the End_, and by then, she figured that she should share it with someone. But who? It couldn't be Arnold, because that would take the fun out of it. Grabbing her cell phone, Helga hit speed dial and listened to it ring.

"Hello?" Phoebe's voice picked up on the other end, and Helga smiled.

"Hey Phoebs, it's Helga. Do you remember that day at the book store before spring break? With the whole class?" she waited, and could practically hear her friend remembering the day, before Phoebe answered.

"Yes, I do. Why?" the blonde waited a few seconds for dramatic effect with a smirk.

"Wanna know what book I bought?"

*

She had written her name in nice hand writing, not large, just as if she were making a list. _Helga Pataki_, right there, in the corner. After bidding John a sweet farewell, she boxed him up and shipped him to an address in California, where Phoebe would be waiting to receive him. She worried for him, but when she got the call from Phoebs saying that he had arrived safely and she was looking forward to reading it, Helga relaxed. She would think of him from time to time, but slowly he drifted from her mind.

Drifted away until she really forgot she ever had him. Again.

*

Several years later, back in Hillwood City, the Moser family was sitting around their kitchen table eating Chinese take out in a scene that was familiar for more than one reason. Same beef chow mien, same sweet and sour chicken, but now there were a few more dishes added. Helga watched as Eddie skipped right over the soy sauce in favor of eating his white rice completely plain. Now that was odd.

Edward Miles Moser loved soy sauce on the verge of obsession.

"Why no soy sauce kid?" Helga asked, and her son looked at her almost as if he was caught stealing porn from a shop he shouldn't have been at in the first place. The look faded, though, and her fifteen year old son watched her carefully.

"Hey mom, your maiden name was Pataki, right?" he had adopted her method of answering a question with another question, and Helga could usually read where he was going. But for some reason, tonight she couldn't.

"Yes, why do you ask?" He smiled, and jumped off the chair in order to retrieve something from his room. The three other members of the family watched him confused as he returned with a worn looking hardcover book. Something within Helga's mind triggered familiarity of it, and it wasn't until she saw that same severed hand, that same chipped green fingernail polish, same _JoHN DIES (at symbol) the End: A NOVEL _that she remember it. The late nights reading as Arnold slept peacefully beside her. The secrecy. The theories of time travel.

The avoidance of soy sauce.

She looked at him with a smile as he opened the front cover, and Helga read a list of names, the names of those who the book had been passed to. Starting at the bottom, she read _Edward Moser_, and worked up; most were names she didn't recognize, but there were a few of her childhood friends. Apparently besides Phoebe and herself, Sheena Horowitz, Curly Gammelthorpe, and Nadine Cross (after she married Izzy) had all read it. And there, at the top and starting the list, somewhat faded but still completely legible in black ink, was her own _Helga Pataki_.

She couldn't hold back a smile at the thought of how things can come back full circle. What were the odds that after this book left her hands, it would pass through those of strangers just to end up in her son's? The sentimentality faded, though, as the memories of what she read in this book entered her mind. David Wong, the author, certainly went to town with the word fuck, and she could distinctly recall a whole page dedicated to talking about the main character's penis.

Ignoring the questioning expressions of Arnold and Jillian, Helga looked at her son with a smile that made the boy more than a little nervous.

"Tell me, Edward, how do you like it so far?"

HA


	11. The Marriage of Wealth and Crazy

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey! Arnold. You guys are lucky I could even get this chapter uploaded, what with my damn computer deciding to be the spawn of Satan. Maybe this will answer some questions you guys may have . . . or maybe not. I also hope you notice and enjoy my little details, because it's the little things that make it real.**_

HA

The morning sun lightly filtered in through the cracks and open spaces in the walls, illuminating the specks of dust dancing about on a ghost wind. Years of undisturbed time covered boxes and trunks and paintings – the room never saw a living soul save for the every year gathering of Christmas decorations. It was quiet, peaceful, untouched by the sounds of the busy city outside.

Suddenly the serenity was violently shattered by the opening of the trap door, a burst of light springing forth to chase away the spirits of the past. Slowly, gently, a blue mug was lifted into the space by a delicate pale hand. Its black tea swirled and steamed dangerously as the same soft hands gracefully heaved up a dark-haired sixteen year old. As son as her feet were up and her tea was secure on a sturdy board, the young woman went about surveying the attic. She moved swiftly and carefully, the joking words of her father and how he nearly fell through the ceiling echoing in her head.

Not quite sure what she was looking for, she simply settled on the first thing to catch her eye and spark her curiosity. After wiping away a thick layer of dust that desperately clung to a few paintings, her eyes landed on a box ornately carved out of what she thought might have been oak. Although she really couldn't be sure, seeing as she didn't know her trees very well and so all things wooden were either oak or maple.

The top of this particular box was carved in intricate designs which led to the center. There, surrounded by gold paint, was the Chinese symbol for family. Blowing away a fine covering of dust, she slowly undid the bronze clasp and lifted the lid, almost afraid that if she moved too quickly it would break.

The very first thing she saw was an old Polaroid. It looked so familiar to her, but she just couldn't figure out why. It was a faded sepia of a woman in a black and white sundress. She had dark hair that ended about mid back, which was braided and slung over one shoulder. She was small, five foot at the tallest, and she was petite. She was outrageously pregnant, and almost looked like her stomach was too heavy and she would topple over face first. Her Chinese eyes were sparkling as she held her stomach, giving the photographer a slide long glance while she sat on an old wooden swing, her bare feet not touching the dirt beside the tree.

There was a little girl by her side, not looking at the photographer, but instead at the spot on the woman's stomach where her hand rested. She had dark hair in short pigtails and a smile on her young face.

Flipping the photo over, her eyes skimmed the elegant and faded script of an obvious female hand.

_Mamma with Jolene and Baby Boy_

_At Grandpa Gammelthorpe's farm_

_February 2, 1990_

"No way . . ." she breathed, for the first time breaking the silence that enveloped her. In the hopes of maybe finding more hidden treasures, she set the photo down to delve even further into the box. Just before she could pull out another artifact, the sound of her mother's soft singing stilled her movements.

"_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you. And remember I'll always be true. And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my loving to you._"

"And just what do you think you're doing up here, kiddo?" a deep baritone of a voice quickly followed her mother's, and she nearly screamed with surprise. Turning quickly, she smiled while brushing away some loose hair, motioning her father to join her.

"Hey dad, just doing a little soul searching up in the attic." Laughing, she watched as he heaved himself through the small trap door with far less grace, ophming as he landed on his stomach.

"Well, why don't we do a little searching together. Maybe this way I can explain instead of you jumping to conclusions again. Hey! Darling!" he called down the hole, and she could hear her mom's footsteps echoing down the halls.

"Yes? What are you two doing up there?" she called in reply, and Katie watched as her dad leaned down, a crooked smile nearly consuming his whole face.

"Our daughter as found one of the old boxes. Why don't you come up and we can make it a family affair?" there was silence for a few moments, and Katie could practically hear her mother's smile.

"Alright, sounds like fun. But I'm going to use the step ladder to get up there – you both know I wasn't lucky enough to be born with Chinese Circus Blood running through my veins." After shuffling about below, Rhonda's head appeared through the opening, and with a little help from her husband and daughter was up and through the hole. She coughed a bit, ruffling the soft black fuzz that was her returning hair, before standing and crouching over to one of the walls.

"It's a little dark to be reminiscing." She announced, before throwing open one of the small windows, disturbing a plume of dust and allow the bright sunshine full access to the dark room. "There, much better." With a smile, she returned to her husband's embrace and the pair watched as Katie pulled out a few more photos, carefully scooting over to join her parents.

"Is this one of you guys?" she asked, holding up an old worn photo of a dark haired couple in their late teens standing in front of an imposing building. The man was dressed in black jacket and flat cap with a pair of jeans, and had his arm around the girl, who was dressed in a little white dress and flat sandals. There was a daisy clasped in both her hands and a smile on her face as the two posed in the warm-looking sun.

Rhonda gently took the photo and smiled, softly running her hands along the figures staring up at her, so young and full of life.

"I haven't seen this photo in years. This was when your father and I got married. Curly, look at this." she handed it to him, and his crooked smile softened as he gazed upon the past. Needless to say, Katie was a bit surprised. That was taken the day they got married? Then why wasn't it in the wedding album? Actually, now that she thought about it, Katie Gammelthorpe had no memory of ever seeing her parents' wedding album. Reading the look on her daughter's face, Rhonda laughed, a sincere and light sound that seemed to warm the attic.

"Well Katie, our wedding wasn't exactly how your Aunt Nadine and I had always planned as little girls," Rhonda began, and Curly laughed at the memory of it all.

"In fact, I don't think you ever called a civil ceremony at the court house a wedding to begin with." Both Katie and Rhonda looked at him sharply, although both had smiles dancing on their lips.

"But the fact still remains that it was probably the best wedding I could ever hope to have." Rhonda finished, and Curly thanked her for that statement with a soft kiss on her awaiting lips. Katie, well used to their displays of affection, simply waited for them to part before pressing for the full story.

"You guys never told me the story of your wedding." Curly looked amazed, but smiled and picked up the photo, staring at it almost as if to try and recapture the memory, although he really didn't need any help.

*

Curly fiddled with the ring in his hand, hoping that Rhonda wouldn't hate it. Even though they had been living together in this little farm house for a little over five months, he still felt that part of her was a Princess accustomed to fine things. And the only thing that made the little gold band fine would be that it was the most he could afford, and it came from his heart. Really, the Claddagh necklace was in his way, an engagement ring, but he seriously doubted that she realized that. It's terribly easy to confuse, he didn't actually come out and say "Marry Me!" but come on, he asked her to leave life as she knew it to be with him in Ireland, and then she willingly applied for citizenship with him. She had to of known in some small part of the brain that he wanted to be with her forever.

No matter how long forever may be.

The sound of the front door to their modest farm house opening jerked him from his thoughts, and he had no time to even try and hide the ring before Rhonda came into the room. Her little white dress clung to her slightly, and the sandals on her feet almost gave her a Greek or Italian look. The sunglasses on her had acted as a headband and the purse on her shoulder was worn from everyday use and love.

She looked radiant.

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the ring in his hand, and he smiled carefully, not wanting to frighten her off.

"Curly?" she asked, and he slowly made his way over to her, his smile standing strong even as he feared rejection.

"I'm sorry I don't have a speech about how much I love you. Well, I did, but you came home too soon and I couldn't memorize it. Marry me?" was his soft question, and Rhonda almost laughed as he held out the small gold band for her, if she wanted it.

"You idiot," she began, and the look on his face was so forlorn that she almost cried, "what took you so long?"

He was too stunned to speak, move, or even think or just a moment. And then the world came back to him in a rush, and he jumped at her, tackling her to the couch and kissing her senseless. She laughed in her light and airy way, before losing her breath as Curly pulled her to her feet. Rhonda watched as he scrambled for the coat rack, pulling on his black jacket and cap before rushing back over to her and dragging her towards the door.

"Curly, where are we going?" she asked breathlessly as he pulled out the keys to Philmore, which she still couldn't figure out how he got to Ireland.

"We're going to grab Sam and Molly, then go to the courthouse." She stilled her feet, only halfway into the seat of the old bus. He watched her pause with Guarded eyes, before hauling himself in the driver's seat and holding out a hand to her.

"My lov- Rhonda. I know that this probably seems like I'm rushing. But I can't wait for you to call your friends and start planning a wedding. I am so in love with you, I just want to make you mine right away; and I can understand if you want to wait. I can wait forever for you, I just . . ." his hand dropped a fraction, but she noticed. With an excellent imitation of the crooked Gammelthorpe smirk, she slid her hand into his with warmth, and pulled herself into the seat. Kissing his cheek, she laughed at his amazed silence while buckling herself in.

"Good thing I'm wearing a white dress."

*

Katie had a crap-eating grin swallowing her whole face as Curly trailed off, looking at his wife as she looked out the window.

"Well? What happened?" their daughter asked impatiently, and Curly laughed, only to be elbowed by his wife.

"We got married." Was all he said, and Katie looked as if she was going to unload on him – just to be cut off by her mother reaching between them to grab something else out of the box.

"Oh, I haven't seen this little guy since you out grew him." She reminisced, holding up a hand-sewn stuffed fox, worn from time and love.

"Is that Mr. Fox?" Katie asked quietly, and squealed in a purely sixteen year old way when Rhonda nodded and handed the old fox over.

"I can still remember how excited you were to get him when Martha Brady made him for you." smiling at the memory of the old woman, Rhonda got quiet, and Curly let the wheels turn in his head about a trip. They both still had duel citizenship, after all.

"Martha Brady?" Katie asked, and her eyes caught a photo of her parents – dressed in the same clothes as the other photo – kissing the cheeks of an older couple with graying hair. The woman was laughing as Rhonda placed a delicate kiss to her skin, while the man looked a mixture of amused and annoyed as Curly planted sloppy lips to his cheek/chin.

"Yeah, Martha Brady and her husband Cormac were our neighbors. They would watch you whenever mom and I both had to work; they were closest thing to grandparents you had before we moved back to the states. Man, they loved and spoiled you so much. Did you know that you're named for their daughter?" her eyes as bright as stars, Katie Gammelthorpe looked at her parents, sensing another history lesson.

"Oh yeah, Kaitlyn Brady, a spirited woman if ever I knew woman. She put even your mother to shame when it came to stubbornness." He laughed, and Rhonda elbowed him again, but had a smile on her face anyway, "If I wasn't so hopelessly in love with your mom, I probably would have fallen for Kaitlyn. You see, when I first moved to the great Emerald Isle, I didn't really have any idea what I was doing. I was homeless for a while, working my way south until I came upon a quaint little town called Bantry.

"There I met this sweet old lady, who invited me to stay with her, her husband and her daughter until I could get back on my feet. They helped me get a job, and when you mom joined me, they helped her find a job as well and us find a house. Martha even taught your mom how to cook."

Here Katie gasped, and Rhonda laughed and nodded, taking a sip of her daughter's now cooled and completely forgotten tea.

"Mhmm, you seem to forget my background. Sweetie, remember Grandma and Grandpa are my parents." she explained, and they young woman was silent for a moment before laughing.

"Oh yeah, I guess I forgot they are a little stiff." Her parents nodded, and her mother continued.

"The first dish I learned to cook was chili macaroni, and it was Martha and Kaitlyn who were there showing me. The Brady's did a lot for our family." The three settled into a moment of silence, before it was broken by Katie's curiosity.

"So, why am I named for Kaitlyn and not Martha?" she asked, and Curly's face dropped.

"Because a few months before we got pregnant, there was a car accident that claimed Kaitlyn's life. Martha and Cormac were devastated; when we found out we were going to have you, Martha asked if we could name the baby after Kaitlyn if it was a girl. We wholly embraced the idea, and thought Katie Gammelthorpe sounded nice." Curly explained, and his daughter squeezed Mr. Fox just that much tighter in stillness before looking at her parents with a pure Gammelthorpe smirk.

"I'm glad you guys told me this, but don't think you're getting out of telling me the rest of your wedding story." To emphasize her point, Katie reached behind her and flashed her parents the picture of four young people sitting in a booth at what appeared to be a bar. Two were obviously Rhonda and Curly, still dressed in their wedding garb, but the other two were foreign but familiar to Katie. The man had blonde hair falling over slightly cloudy grey eyes. He had his arm around a girl with green eyes, freckles, and what seemed to be a fiery personality that matched her curly hair.

Curly took the picture from his daughter's fingers, chuckling at the memory as he handed it to Rhonda, who laughed outright.

*

"Was that really necessary, Sam?" Curly asked his friend from the backseat, his arm around his new wife as they let Molly drive Philmore. They still weren't sure where they were being taken, but decided not to question it while the eccentric redhead was behind the wheel.

"Of course it was necessary. I can be a witness without me eyesight." Sam shot back, before smiling at the memory of the clerk's look of surprise when the blind man had his girlfriend lead his hand to the witness signature line on the marriage certificate.

"So, where are we going?" Rhonda leaned up to ask Molly, fiddling with the pendant around her neck.

"Well ye can't jost expect ta go back 'ome. Ye got married! We're gonna celebrate." Molly announced before letting loose a cheer and making a left turn so sharp it sent Curly and Rhonda careening into each other, into the door.

She stopped that car just outside of a small looking establishment with a sigh that simply said _Colm's_ over the doors. Rhonda didn't recognize it, but the other three in Philmore certainly did. Sam and Molly cheered, while Curly just laughed as they ditched their ride in favor of entering the little brick building.

It was a quiet, smoke filled room with a bar with maybe a dozen locals and the strong smell of whiskey and beer. Rhonda's eyes quickly picked up on Kaitlyn Brady behind the bar, serving pints and laughing in her light Irish way. A few folks watched them enter and cheered, while Sam lifted his arms as if to make a proclamation.

"Oi! Kaitlyn! Give us a round, we're celebrating a weddin'!" he called, and a chorus of cheers and congratulations rose from the depths of the tables and booths as Molly and Sam led the young married couple to what Rhonda assumed was the standard table.

"A Weddin' eh? Well then, looks like we'll all 'ave ta celebrate. Next round's on ta house!" the cheer became even lighter at the announcement of free booze.

For twenty minutes the group shared a large plate of steak fries and a pint of beer each. Kaitlyn had popped over a few moments ago to take a picture of the slightly tipsy teens before returning to her post behind the bar. It was already late in the afternoon, but seemed much later in the day, maybe even the evening within the small pub.

"Oi, Thaddie! Is boozin' any way ta show that gearl o' yers ye love 'er?" an older gentleman called, and Curly smiled before sliding out of the booth and offering a hand to his young bride.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, and Rhonda blushed prettily before nodding and slipping her warm hand into his. Hauling her to her feet, he led her to a small clear spot on the floor and began swaying with her to a tune only he heard. Kaitlyn smiled before nodding to Molly, who had wandered over to the jukebox. With a swift kick to the side of the archaic machine, the redhead smiled as the soft sounds of Irish pipes, drums, and an accordion filtered through the air.

"Ladies and Lads, introducing Mr. and Mrs. Gammelthorpe in their first dance as 'usband and wife." The voice of the bartender announcing their new status made it all the more real for Rhonda, and she was amazed at how right everything felt. And it wasn't just the beer talking for her.

So what if none of her friends and family knew, save for those in Ireland? And so what if there was not the splendor and grander she had planned since she was old enough to know what those glamour magazines her mother always had were talking about? And so what if her first dance as someone's wife was in a pub in southern Ireland, cheered on by drunks and smokers? None if it really mattered, save for the fact that she was in Curly's arms, and she was loved.

He loved her, so much. And as she danced with her head on his chest and his arms around her waist, she could feel all that love within him flow to her and expand with her heart.

The moment was so epic that was partly glad when the soft notes of the music abruptly changed into fast-paced Irish punk and her husband pulled away from her in order to spin her around like a 1920's rag doll. She couldn't keep up with his feet or the words, but she did catch a few vulgar terms he sang along with that he directed at her. With a laugh she slapped him upside the head and was content to be flung around. Yes, that was it.

She was content.

"You know my love, now that we're an Irish married couple, we have a few traditions we have to follow." Curly whispered in her ear, and she smiled as they slowed to a sway once more.

"Oh, and what traditions would those be?"

"Why, now that we're Irish, we have to have a large family, ye know. I'm thinkin' six, at least." He did his best to adopt the Irish brogue, and she laughed her own light and Irish sound. Leaning up to his ear, she loved the feeling of the shiver running down his spine.

"Well, we better get started on that practice." She laughed and kissed his lips sensuously, before being twirled around once more as the music picked up.

It surprised her, the overwhelming happiness she felt within that little tavern.

And then again, it really didn't.

*

Katie was smiling as she cuddled Mr. Fox, stealing the tea mug from her father and practically envisioning the image of her dad swinging her mom around in a pub for their wedding reception. Her mom looked just as happy now as she did in the pictures, snuggling in to her husband's arms as the sun's rays strengthened, and one of the downstairs clocks struck ten.

They were quiet, peaceful, before Curly stretched and stood, kissing his wife's cheek and ruffling his daughter's hair.

"Well girls, I better get downstairs and start breakfast. Your mom may have learned to cook from a master, but I'll still the King of Breakfast." Curly announced, leaving the laughing women in the attic to keep going over old photo and journals.

He didn't bother telling Katie the _whole_ story of their wedding day. Just like he didn't bother telling Rhonda the whole story of how he survived and made it to Ireland. About why he was able to slip in and out of the country to easily. About Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and the agency that wasn't connected to the government. About why the news archives no longer said Curly Gammelthorpe, but Mad Hatter.

About the body switch.

And as he turned on the stove to start cooking up some crispy bacon, and a particularly loud laugh ran through the house, he smiled. They didn't need to know everything. Maybe instead what they needed was a nice trip back to Ireland, to see Sam and Molly McDaniels, and her adoptive grandparents Martha and Cormac Brady – who they meticulously kept in touch with.

Maybe that's what they all needed.

HA


	12. Benny Boy

_**Disclaimer: Hey guys, I know I've been off the radar, but don't think it's you – it's all me. I'm still working on Apple Circus, but new management at work and other life occurrences kinda got in the way. So, possible health concerns and the decision to put down our dog somewhat forced me to write this; right after I came to the conclusion that cleaning can only occupy my mind for so long. **_

HA

The crying was almost hysterical, though not quite. It echoed throughout the house, and he could even hear it out in the driveway. That was what Arnold noticed when he arrived home after his long day at work. The not hysterical cries of someone in pain. Almost hysterical but definitely heartbroken.

And definitely his daughter's.

All the way up the front stoop Arnold could feel his heart getting heavier and heavier. Jillian sounded absolutely traumatized, and yet it wasn't a physically pained kind of cry – it was more sorrowful. Opening that front door was both a blessing and a curse, Arnold realized, when he found that his daughter didn't seem to be harmed, but she was sobbing freely into her mother's blouse.

Both women were red-faced, and Helga didn't say a word as she held her distraught daughter, just rocked her back and forth as she cried out her sorrow. She met her husband's gaze, tears carving ugly paths down her cheeks. At his look, she moved her mouth to the other side of Jillian's head to better address him.

"We took care of Benny today."

At her mother's answer, Jillian cried harder, gripping Helga's shirt in a death hold that nearly ripped the fabric. Arnold's face fell, and he nodded, wanting to cry now himself.

"Eddie is in his room. He didn't want me to console him – I think he's waiting for you."

That was when Arnold noticed his son wasn't in the living room. With a nod, he slipped off his coat and shoes, and made his way down the hallway and towards Eddie's room, the cries of his daughter still loud in his ears.

Jillian continued to cry, her shoulders shaking with each attempt at controlling her sobs. Helga rubbed her back, not saying anything but making more of a comforting humming noise. After a while, she calmed down enough to voice her feelings, something her mother encouraged greatly.

"I feel so guilty. I don't think I would feel this if he died on his own. But we knowingly took him to die, and the whole ride out he looked at me like _We're going for a ride Jilly!_ But when we got to the vet, and we took him into the back room he seemed to ask me _Why Jilly?_" at the memory, Jillian broke down again. Helga tightened her hold on her daughter, crumbling in her own sobs.

They remained on the couch for a while longer, until Helga finally spoke, her voice cracking with every few words.

"Oh Jillian Bean, I know it hurts. It hurts a lot, and it'll hurt for a while. Benny had been in our family since before you were born. But he was old honey. He was eighteen – he lived more than twice his life expectancy. And sweetie, he had cataracts in both eyes. You remember how he was always running into walls near the end? We had to think about what was best for him." By the end of her speech, Helga had managed to compose herself, but was still crying silently.

"I know that mom, but it still doesn't change the fact that I feel guilty. When Grandpa started losing his hearing, we didn't take him to the doctors to be euthanized!" Almost laughing at her daughter's comparison, Helga moved away from Jillian to hold the young face between her hands.

"When I was nine, I had a pet lizard. That little demon saved me from quite a few near-death experiences – but over time he became a liability. He would bite at anyone that wasn't me, and soon I was muscled into putting him down. I'll never forget the expression in his eyes, just as you'll never forget Benny's. But sweetie, why do you think he lived so damn long?" Jillian's tears slowed as she thought about Helga's story, and then found her lips forming a small smile.

"Because he was spoiled."

"That's right; we spoiled that little baby rotten. And I'm sure that in whatever afterlife he's in now, he's bragging to anyone who'll listen about how he managed to get everyone eating out of the palm of his hand, rather than the other way around."

And in spite of the day, the pair of blondes on the couch found themselves laughing amid their tears.

_*** O * O * **_

Arnold knocked two or three times on the oak door, before slowly pushing it open. The lights were off, but the blinds were open, so the room wasn't completely dark. Eddie was sitting in the middle of his bed, arms wrapped around his legs as he cried. Sitting down on the bed behind his son, Arnold was quiet for a few moments, trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

"Eddie."

"Dad."

And just like that, Eddie spun around and threw his arms around his father's neck, sobbing in a way that was near identical to his older sister's. But Eddie was not like his sister, for he was spewing out his thoughts with his tears almost as soon as he embraced his father.

"She was so brave, dad! Jill was so brave! She went in with mom and Benny, and kept a brave face! But I couldn't do it! I just couldn't! I took him for a walk before they left but I couldn't bring myself to go! So I stayed behind. I'm such a coward! I couldn't even go!" he wailed, and Arnold gripped him tighter.

"You're not the only one, Eddie. Today was my day off, and I was going to go with your mom, but I chickened out at the last minute. I couldn't do it either." Eddie sniffed and lifted his head, looking at his dad with wide eyes.

"You couldn't?"

"No, I couldn't. Just like I couldn't do it when my pig Abner had to be put down – I had to have Great Grandpa go while your mom stayed with me."

Eddie started feeling better, knowing that his father was poured from the same chicken broth that he was. In fact, his wallowing had slowed, and that was when Arnold decided to tell his son the same thing Helga had told him all those years ago.

"There's nothing wrong with not being able to go to something like that. In fact, it's probably better, because then you don't have to have the memory. But just because we didn't go to the actual thing doesn't mean we can't hold a small memorial in Benny's honor, one that we can all go to."

Eddie nodded, and it seemed that he was finished crying, until the sound of a neighborhood dog barking sent him into another fit of sobs in his father's arms.

HA


	13. Tusk

_**Disclaimer: Hey, so, this chapter is a little bit of a throw-back chapter, but I figured you guys needed something to chew on before I spit out which ever chapter I finish next. A little useless information: I've had this in my head for a few months before now, but couldn't quite find the right pairing for it. But thinking about it now, I think these two were best, and I hope you agree. And if you don't, let me know. Hell, just review damn it.**_

_**P.S. I don't own Fleetwood Mac, nor any of their songs, but I do own some CDs.**_

_**P.S.S. this one is really rather short, in hindsight and all.**_

HA

The auditorium was loud. Wildly loud. Hormonally-driven loud. Almost-the-end-of-school-and-the-last-week-for-Seniors loud. Stupidly loud.

Harold sat with some of his buddies from the football team, laughing louder than most at the poor freshman beneath the stage lights performing a valiant attempt at magic. Something about a caterpillar following the wand up his arm and across his shoulders. What was this kid, gay? This was the biggest waste of time Harold knew of, next to math. With a full ride through college thanks to an almost guaranteed football scholarship, who needed algebra?

Certainly not a sophomore Harold Berman.

"_Oi_." A harsh whisper four students over snapped, and he just knew it was directed at him. Sending a glance her way, Harold shrank only slightly beneath the glare of Helga Geraldine Pataki. Somewhere in the summer between sixth and seventh grade, she had changed quite a bit, losing the uni-brow and near constant PMS; to the point where she was actually attractive. But along the way from duckling to swan, she also dropped the bully façade and picked up the flag for feminism and equality, becoming a champion for the arts.

That alone made her unappealing to the point where he was content to just be good friends with her. In fact, most of the P.S. 118 gang had remained close friends, even gaining a few more after entering high school. Ironically, most of those friends were made via Helga.

It was because they were still friends that Harold smiled sheepishly at the irate blonde, trying to ignore the snickers of his other friends as his ears turned red from embarrassment. What, did they think he was a chicken; one that wouldn't do what was deemed cool because a friend from a different click, a _**girl**_, thought it was low? That he was a pussy?

Well, he couldn't have them thinking _that_.

"_You stink_!" he shouted when the kid was taking a bow for those nice enough to clap. A few people laughed, and someone had the nerve to chuck a waded up piece of paper at his head, knocking off his blue cap in the process.

"_**Pink Boy!**_" Helga whispered hoarsely, and when Harold turned to meet her eyes, he could clearly see her mouth the word **ass**, followed by another violent ball of paper. He scoffed while replacing his hat, but figured he would apologize later; that way his friends still thought he was cool and Helga wouldn't try to kill him. Everybody was happy.

The kid with the lame magic, he noticed when he turned back to the stage, bowed once again but this time aimed a pair of middle fingers straight at Harold, much to his amusement and the teachers' chagrin. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad.

He clapped with a smirk, and could feel Helga's killing intent lessen. That was when – by some other, more _real_ form of magic – he noticed that quite a few students were missing from their little assembly. Probably something like twenty to fifty; he didn't need math, remember? Had they all decided to skip this stupid talent-show that the staff had decided to do _instead_ of a celebration of the most awesomeness of the football team? The _**undefeated**_ football team? What a waste.

"_Lame_." Harold muttered under his breath, followed by the snickers of his friends as the principle clapped while making his way on stage. Ushering off the little underclassman, he took out a note card and held a microphone to his lips in order to introduce the next performance.

"Thank you Charlie, what an astounding show of illusions. And now, we have a special treat for you; a band formed by your own classmates. Please give your undivided attention to," pause to read the card, "Death to Strangers! Wait," pause again as the student body erupts in applause. "Death to Strangers? That can't be right." But soon he too was ushered off the stage as Iggy, Lucy, the lead singer and other guitarist – who Harold was surprised to realize was Torvald – and Robert and his brother Dwayne took up their instruments. After a few brief moments of tuning while the students still clapped like idiots, Iggy looked to his girlfriend and received a nod. Stepping up to the mic, he smirked when a few girls cheered wildly, much to Lucy's annoyance.

"What's up guys?"

Pause for more erratic screams.

"So, we know how much you dig our tunes."

One loud kid shouted Death to Strangers.

"But we decided we were gonna do something a little different. So take it or leave."

Some of their friends - one passionate blonde being the leader – gave out playful cat calls. One brave girl threw her bra and almost hit Iggy.

"Suck my dick bitches!" Lucy shouted into the mic before Robert, not even counting off, began a catchy round of notes on his drums that had the student body swaying. Soon Dwayne and Lucy joined in, playing the same cords on their distinctly different instruments.

"_Why don't you ask him if he's going to stay? Why don't you ask him if he's going away?_" Torvald sang softly into the mic as girls swooned, his guitar along with Iggy's completing the almost seductive sound of song.

Harold couldn't help but look around. Sure, he loved the band his friends had, but the amount of people missing was holding the attention of the usually easily-distracted boy. He could see most of his friends were in the stands but there was one face missing. Where was . . . Where was . . .

Where was Patty?

"_Why don't you tell me what's going on? Why don't you tell me who's on the phone?_" The voted-in King of Cool joined his band mate, and quite a few girls went crazy like it was the Beatles.

"_Ooooh_." Now that sound was pure naughty, and Harold could tell right away that the teachers _did_ _not_ approve when they convened in a corner like bitter vultures as the majority of girls in the student body screamed as if being impaled. Dirty, simply dirty.

"_Why don't you ask him what's going on? Why don't you ask him who's the latest on his throne?_"

"_Don't say that you love me!_" they all shouted, and Harold was finding it hard not to sway to the upbeat, seductive tune that his friends were putting on. It was even enough to distract him from the thought of Patty not being anywhere in his line of sight.

"Wait, where was Patty again?

"_Just tell me that you want me! HI-EY-HA!_" Torvald shouted again, to which more than several girls shouted over and over something to the extent of – we want you we need you oh baby oh baby –

"_Don't say that you love me! HI-EY-HA!_"

"_Just tell me that you_ _–_" at that point Torvald cut his sentence there as Robert took to the drums like a madman in a quick solo, which the climax met with both set of doors to the auditorium were kicked open, and in strode the entire brass section of the school's marching band (Go Bulldogs!) led by the trumpets. And just who was leading the triumphant group to the proverbial Holy Land? Why none other than Patty Smith, cocky as anything with her instrument at her lips.

In they marched clad in uniforms, helping to carry the beat Death to Strangers had started, going through formation after formation. Suddenly Harold found himself standing along with everyone else, clapping and cheering like a bunch of morons.

"_TUSK!_" Iggy and Lucy shouted out while Torvald made throat screams that sounded like he was dying of pleasure. Several of the students in the audience tried to shout along with the couple, but only a select few actually had the timing right. Harold could distinctly hear Helga's clear voice being one of them – cheeky bitch knew all along.

All the while, Harold couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Patty – or at least he hoped it was Patty. They were all wearing the same uniforms, which included the tall hats; and there had been quite a bit of movement due to the choreography. For all Harold knew, he could really have been staring at Mickey the Weasel.

But he hoped it was Patty.

The show went on for a few more minutes before everyone – Band, trumpets, trombones, tubas, saxophones, and horns all ended on the same note. That was the very instant the entire student body erupted into cheers and catcalls and screams so loud that the majority of the faculty had to cover their ears. And it was on that ending note that everyone in the stands rushed the stage, engulfing the performers with congratulations and the like.

The rest of the school day was forgotten with the unanimous thought that a talent show wouldn't be a drag any longer if Death to Strangers continued to make an appearance.

It was a full hour after the end of the show that Harold finally got some alone time with Patty – although after all the fighting to get her to himself, he had no idea what to say. Well, he knew by this point that he liked her, which was saying something since he was a sophomore football player, and never really knew what he liked unless it was undivided among his current click of friends. It was mostly a pack animal thing; or at least that's what Helga told him.

"What did you want to talk to me about Harold?" Patty asked in her quiet way, and he found himself mimicking her reservation. It was hard for him to fathom that such a hushed voice came out of the same mouth that produced such loud, awesome notes on a trumpet. But she did, and he liked her all the more for it.

"I was wondering if you wanted to maybe, I dunno, go out some time or something – but only if you wanted to! I mean, I understand if you wanna just -" his rambling was ceased only by her small, pleased smile.

"That sounds great, Harold." Was her answer, and he cheered while jumping in the air as if to fist pump God.

"Great, cause you know, there's a football game tonight and it'd be great if I could see you there and hear you cheer me on." Her smile fell only briefly, vaguely wondering if he even realized what he was saying.

"Harold, I play the trumpet in the pep band." Her response was given with a blank face, and he paused his excited jubilation to look at her with hope in his eyes.

"So you'll go, then?" his hopeful tone was simply too much for her weak, pathetic and altogether mushy girly heart to take. With an eye roll and a smile, she nodded.

"Sure Harold, I'll go."

HA


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